I Wound for Love
by Justified Wings
Summary: 11/25/2011- Indefinite hiatus. Originally written in 2008. The memoirs of a man who believed he was more than just a man. He believed he was a god and he would create his own empire. And then his past caught up to him.
1. Prologue

**I Wound for Love  
>Prologue<strong>

A story of intricate woe.  
>A tale of a formerly unspeakable sorrow.<br>A journey that the heart has taken.

All things begin, and all things end, like a storybook. Climactic events occur in the center as a means of keeping the reader entertained. Everything before then is made up of mild situations, conflicts looking for a resolution, and those that the story directly involves.

Allow me, if I may, to pluck you from your reality. I aim to draw you into my world, so that you can see through my eyes the very land that has stretched out before me.

Every day is hardly different from the one prior or the one that will follow. The sun rises, and from it comes a radiance like no other. It is almost similar to the idea that a woman with perfectly blonde hair, or even flesh like alabaster, glows with a concealed desire. The latter situation, however, stems from one's personal beliefs. Not all eyes agree that a woman should be blonde. Not all gazes would stop to rest on the unnaturally pale.

Personal preference.

So how do I see the world? You may be asking yourself this. 'Surely this man must care or else he wouldn't bring up the subject.' If you're saying that, then you'd be right, and if you manage to find me, I'll give you something for being so clever and observant.

Unfortunately, I can't answer your question; not in words, at any rate. Words, at times, can be the most complex little things you come across. They can be considered 'fluffy' or 'sugar-coated' and leave room for misinterpretations. Words are both the protagonist and the antagonist of our world and of our individual lives. Obviously, what you are holding now are words, of the written sort. I'm hoping that you may find this story to be entertaining, enlightening, whatever you wish it to be.

This is a collection of my thoughts, of my ideas, theories and the hypotheses I have created all in the while of observing my people, and the others of the world.

Ah, yes. An observer. That is what I am. Seemingly nothing more, seemingly nothing less. An observer who will leave his imprint on the surface of this planet, and any others my feet have the privilege of walking on.

All of this began when I crossed paths with an aspiring priestess. This is a tale of how she influenced me, of how I may have influenced her. And you may find it odd, however, I took the liberty of placing some of her personal items in this as well. Perhaps you will be as overcome by awe as I was the first moment my gaze locked onto her.

My name is Soryk Valchion.  
>And I wound for love.<p> 


	2. Entry 1

**I Wound for Love  
><strong>**Entry #1**

_[Written on thin parchment, in writing that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

Grass. Green.

It is plausible to say that no matter what one wears upon his feet, said individual can easily tell the difference of ground types. Obviously grass is prone to being softer than rock or dry dirt.

That was the thought I had as I traversed the Dead Scar in the direction of Falconwing Square. Yes, all Sin'dorei know the tale behind the arrival of the decrepit strip of land. It is a single word that causes dread in every dame. It is an idea that was formerly likely to grow repetitive, and now causes every parent to think before lying his children down for the night.

Scourge.

If you stand where the rangers are, you can still see the remnants of Arthas' army. If you follow it south, it's filled with skeletons and creatures that suffer from dripping flesh. One might compare them to the loyal followers of Lady Sylvannas or those considered 'undead'. Only those with blind eyes would confuse a race of people with a gaggle of ghouls.

On the other side of the scar, there is forest. In fact, one more from the rangers' position, Eversong Woods mirrors itself across that strip. Where there is no barren ground, there are trees that I can easily say are the most beautiful that I have ever seen.

Roots break from the ground and as though molded by elven hands, their ends curl, circling a fiery orange light. At night as the sun sinks into the Northern Sea, the woods light up and the forest puts on a show. If you have never truly seen it, I would recommend that you open your eyes. You can only see what you desire to see.

I guarantee, however, that you haven't lived until your gaze has watched the theatrics of the world.

I was only steps away from the North Sanctum. I had been observing the dwarf considered to be an infiltrator from the Alliance.

Observing people is what I do best. It is my process of comprehension. Every animated entity has an angle. There is something that drives us, something that motivates the actions we take. I like discovering what that 'something' is.

Along the way… I stumbled across someone.

Her hair is brown, a delightful chestnut color. It was the first thing I noticed about her. I thought perhaps that she was lost. Yet when she spoke, something in her tone and the way her lips upturned made me fight the queasy nature within my stomach. It is not uncommon for my insides to turn at the sight of the feminine gender.

I would not openly express my dislike for them, however, they have a tendency to not be my favorite people. As all children are taught by their parents, I retain a polite mannerism towards even those I do not prefer.

The woman I met is ridiculous. That's the only way I know how to phrase it. Her bubbly tone and overly happy demeanor I find obnoxious. There is an arrogance, but not one where she believes she is wiser due to class or skill. Her arrogance stems from being a woman as opposed to a man. What she fails to realize is that she is simply a little girl, the kind who has no willpower of her own, or is too foolish to recognize it.

Perhaps it was meant to be a single meeting between us. That was what I initially thought. Coincidence it was that as I returned to Silvermoon City in the evening, I came to her again. The same woman with flat hair. The same woman with the eyes accented by purple shading. The same irritating smile and giggle and feminine posture.

This woman thinks she is so demure, that she is so fragile. The way she laces her hands together and gives off the impression that she is so… 'endearing'. I have seen too many women act this way. How absurd. It is most likely that such is the reason I tend not to enjoy such idiotic company.

She has given her name as Krysinna, however. Krysinna, an aspiring priestess for Silvermoon City. She is naïve. Naïve, and quite possibly stupid. I could use this to my advantage, however, and this was my line of thinking the entire night.

We sat in the Court of the Sun, and would you believe she preferred that I sit next to her, as though I were associated with her. I imagine to an extent that one could say I know her at least by name, but certainly not on a 'friend' level. At any rate, I can put up with her company, if it means I can twist her, just a little. If I consider it a little more, it is not the idea of exactly twisting _her_ as it is, playing with her.

This Krysinna, this lady, she is like a doll, and all I intend to do is merely tug upon her strings.

She ran her mouth off until the late hours, when the sun has already vanished and the moon was busy rising above the isle. In fact, she probably would have continued if I hadn't told her that even I need some kind of sleep.

And we parted ways then. The last I remember of her was the implied request that I escort her down to Fairbreeze Village.

I think I will do this. Just to play with her a bit. The more she trusts me, the closer I can become, and the harder the fall will be for Priestess Krysinna.


	3. Entry 2

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #2<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in writing that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

Krysinna walks with an odd grace. Her limbs are like the branches of a willow tree. She walks behind me, however, which implies that she may be ruled by her fears, doubts, and uncertainties.

Or she could be afraid of me. Am I so frightening, though? I may be tall. I may be strong. I may be wise. I am hardly different from her. We are both alive. We are both breathing. Our limbs move, the strands of our hair adjust with every motion, and our lips raise and lower as we speak. There is little, if anything, to fear in such a situation.

I took her to Fairbreeze and once more the mouth continued the speaking. I wish I could say that when she spoke I ignored her. I listen a lot more than I need to, and far more than I care to. On the other hand, in order to prevent her from growing curious about me, it's essential to keep her talking. This means it's required that I ask her questions and pretend to be interested.

Not once have I offered my real name. Well, not for quite some time, that is. To protect myself, to avoid the rest of the world, I have slyly disguised myself.

As you may have already discovered, my name is Soryk Valchion. Though it is not terribly original, I call myself Kyros. I imagine the surname Valchion is as common as Sunflame or something as equally ridiculous. We all ache for individuality, however, and therefore will pick new names for us and our children. It is nice to see such evolution with our new generation.

At any rate, that is the name I use. Surely you have put two and two together. "Kyros" is "Soryk" backwards. Is that not clever?

**I'm kidding.**

It's not special at all.

Rather than being called Kyros by Krysinna, she has decided that "Mister Kyros" is more appropriate. It makes me feel as though I am ancient. Now, I won't be telling you how old I am, but I'll have you know that I'm quite young. When I confronted her about this, she said it was because I refer to her as 'lady'.

No, I don't mean as in calling her "Lady Krysinna," but rather replacing her name with "lady". From what I can see, she does not appreciate it. It adds to my enjoyment. Well, offers me some, that is. Most of the time, I do not enjoy any time with her.

She is beginning to grow on me, perhaps.

No, never mind. That is the food poisoning.

Little Krysinna… She talks a lot. In fact, as we sat outside upon the chairs Fairbreeze was kind enough to offer, she made us a wonderful meal. (One that I will neglect telling her caused my innards to wretch, the way a sandworm would if it was forced to eat its own excrement.) While she may be obnoxious, she may be good for at least one thing, assuming any other can possibly live through what she believes is nutritional value. In spite of the food, however, it would not silence the shrew's tongue.

On and on she went until I forcefully rose to my feet. Bidding her a goodnight, I ignored her colored cheeks, and showed myself to the second floor of the inn. My dreams will surely be of that which she asked me before I left. I have no intentions of offering her information about me. I must avoid this at all costs.

Krysinna has asked that I accompany her through the woods tomorrow. How completely absurd.


	4. Entry 3

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #3<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in writing that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

I officially state here that I have, currently do not, and most likely will not ever understand women.

Miss Krysinna seemed upset. I imagine when people become this way, they aim to rely on others for help. She had not yet told me of her conflicts. I would wait. I have become far too patient in this age, something I appreciate from time to time.

When she confided in me, she spoke of her parents. Now, for all of the mindless drabble she goes on about, I've come to realize that she really talks about nothing. The things I learn consist mainly of what Krysinna wishes to do with her life and the time she has been given. To some, this may be considered important. As far as I'm concerned, it has nothing to do with me. What she chooses to or not to do influences me very little.

We sat in Silvermoon City's inn. Krysinna was enjoying a glass of pinot noir. She insisted to me that because she worked so hard, she deserved to have a drink. Personally, I've always thought acolytes had a specific way of living. Of course, I have no studies of the Light at all, nor do I wish to. The very last thing I want is to become obsessed with the energies of the land as my brethren have.

I have no use for arcane. I have never once wielded it. If I truly wished to, I could sap it from others, but I would have no use for it. There is quite a distinction between my people and those we descended from. The eyes of my kind are often times a startling green. Mine are as well, yet not to such an extent. Mine are more of an aqua shade, blue with a tint of green. I am the offspring of those who used Fel energies, I suppose, or at least one. The story behind that is unimportant, however, and I will not be discussing it.

I am wasting precious time. You are more interested in why I have mentioned the aspiring priestess yet again.

Attempting to chide her for something I disapprove of, she ignored me—well, reassured me. If it had been the former, I would be more impressed. Krysinna needs the ability to be more assertive rather than submissive. Otherwise, she'll grow to be even more pathetic than she is now.

Unable to walk properly on her own, I took her outside to sit in the cool breeze. She told me that her parents were upset with her pathway. They lived on the isle northwest of the city, it seemed. From what Krysinna spoke, her family wanted her to stay in Silvermoon, get married, and spawn many times over. You know, the desire all fogies of the old generation have.

Krysinna says she only wishes to help others. She has no interest in marriage, or children. As all people should, I told her she should do what she wished to. At times that can be complicated. Children often long to bring pride to their maternal and paternal units. Our people, as a whole, have clearly shown exactly how important honor is to us, and our family names. This may be the wrong way to help our offspring along. After all, it is themselves that will need to be lived with, not us.

We are not immortal. We have only ourselves to look forward to. What the afterlife holds, I do not know. I suppose when I reach that point, perhaps I will write of it while I am there and it will answer the questions many have.

The way a daughter would with a father, I imagine, Krysinna inched closer to me and without even asking for my permission, rested her head upon her shoulder. How. Irritating.

**Woman, I hate you.**

She sniffled, the way a child does when she has fallen out of a tree and her knees are covered with abrasions. I am not a father, however, or a parent of any kind, and do not exactly indulge in the tears of the youth. It was far more disturbing to have her in my close proximity, than it was to have her asking me about myself. What I would have given to have been able to vanish right before her eyes.

Yet I maintained my ground. Part of lulling her into this… 'tranquil' setting, is to be able to play the part of a friend well. While she is anything but a friend, she considers me to be one of hers. This means it is my obligation to lend to her emotional support. I can do this, however, in a way that renders me void of something so absolutely ridiculous.

(Before anyone may possibly assume, I would not necessarily say I am an empty vessel. I am simply more restrained and conservative, than boisterous and obnoxious.)

Slipping my arm around her, I wondered what could possibly be the best course of action. Krysinna's sadness was caused by her parents, correct? And what would happen if they somehow managed to… disappear? As I considered this hypothetical situation, I found myself grinning.

"Why," I thought, "I could be her liberator."

Pulling her strings. Making her dance. This was the moment I had been waiting for! To see her expression, to see her face when she was without what she did not appreciate, it was worth it, and I would do it so fluidly, in the dead of night when no creatures stirred aside from the darker avian types scouting the skies. They would ignore me, however, as I am as dark as they.

She interrupted my thoughts by claiming she wished to go on a walk. I took her to the isle. Not just any simple place, but rather the coastline in the opposite direction of where her family lived. Once we arrived, she stared at me squarely, as though I would possibly ignore her requests, and said she would visit her family the following day, and announce to them of her decision.

I, of course, will not be going. Such is not my right. This is Krysinna's passage, after all. I am simply an observer and one who intends to toy with the variables that may affect the outcome in either a short or a long run.

The ocean waves of the North Sea crash into the sand, every tide threatening the brunette who has fallen asleep on me. We danced beneath the moon tonight, and while she may be enticed to fall for me, she has yet to realize that I wish only for bad things on her. Well… Perhaps not 'bad,' yet… Interesting and entertaining.

Priestess Krysinna, you are the star of this theatrical piece. I am simply the audience. I look forward to how the next scene shall play out. Will you be overcome by sorrow, or rage? Or will you be happy to know that I have cut out the vital obstruction upon your path?

All I know as I stare at the dark sky, a reflection of my own soul, is that I am looking forward to tomorrow's events.

Sleep tight, Krysinna, for tomorrow you'll be the last living remnant of your family.


	5. Entry 4

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #4<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in writing that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

In storybooks, the villains never tell the reader about the hardships they encounter while they commit the felony. Of course, the deciding factor is what others consider a 'crime'.

We all go through a phase where we believe that the only opinion that truly matters is ours. Other people wrongly judge and criticize. One could say we, as unified and divided people, cannot endure our flaws being pointed out to us. That is not entirely accurate, however, as logic states we are our own harshest and brutal critics.

Liberating people, especially those less fortunate than us, is not wrong. You are freeing those beneath oppression. The oppressors are the wrong-doers. The scales can tip in either direction. Oppression is sometimes necessary, and in those situations, the people affected should not be interfered with.

"_What does this have to do with anything, Valchion?"_ you are asking. Well, I'll tell you.

Parents oppress their children. They shelter them from the cruelties of the world. In order to become well-rounded, children should be subjected to that harsher environment. To help them obtain self-discipline, and to better themselves, it is a parent's responsibility to teach their offspring how to grow and accept the consequences of life's many pathways.

Previously I mentioned Miss Krysinna's conflict with her own maternal and paternal units. What I chose to do was to liberate her from their grasps. While I agree with the notion that the masculine gender should always be considered the leader, women have just as much a right to pursue their own dreams and paths (though they may fail). After all, how many of us would accept the idea of _Princess_ Sunstrider?

(Not that the current Sunstrider had not proven himself more feminine due to such acts of cowardice. I am truly ashamed to consider him anything like me. He pales in comparison, of course.)

Now, before you choose to annoy me due to my prior words, I will acknowledge the female leaders currently in existence, and then explain why I do not consider them to be of import. Should I miss one, then you truly will know I think little of them.

Tyrande Whisperwind of Teldrassil is the leader of the Kal'dorei, our distant cousins. Disgusting creatures, really. They believe they are so fluid, glib, and eloquent, and fail to realize that their women are nearly as masculine as the submissive creatures they call men. Have you ever truly looked at a Kal'dorei man? No, of course not, I'm sure, as they are always sleeping. They leave their women to the swords and slumber in the back lines. Nothing but a purely grotesque idea.

Jaina Proudmoore is a leader of Theremore's island port, certainly thought of higher than the humans' king in Stormwind. (In fact, I would venture to say that the young boy is most likely a figurehead rather than holding any real authority. How idiotic must you be to give governmental power to one who has not yet reached adolescence?) From what I have heard, however, there was a vague connection between Kael'thas, the late lord, and Arthas Menethil. Could it be that the wars with the Scourge were simply a vengeance tactic in response to Proudmoore's affections placed on the former leader of my people? What an absurd and yet plausible idea. If she wished to redeem herself on my account then I suppose the rumors between her and Orgrimmar's leader had better be accurate.

(Then again, who could ever wish to spawn with an orc? How repulsive.)

The final woman I choose to acknowledge with great reluctance is Sylvanas Windrunner, the leader of the Forsaken, who are better left as corpses adorning the Dead Scar. This woman is a traitor, and a menace. A High Elf who claimed she was protecting our home of Quel'thalas and yet allied herself with a species of people who attempted to kill off her kind. Foolish actions, to lower one's guard and give into those who wish to destroy him. I honor the High Elves not, and instead await the day when all are put to death for their crimes against their own people and mine.

That may be something I am to work towards.

As you can see, one irritation leads to another. All I truly meant to clarify was that my plans were to free Krysinna from her constraints. Doing such a thing required a plan, and what we will call a 'scapegoat'.

Her mother, in likeness with her, was a weak and frail woman. A single scream was all I needed to have her perform. I was a bit disappointed to sully one of my own personal blades on her olive flesh, but it did seem quite necessary at the time. Fortunately for me, unlike clothes, daggers do not stain.

I choose to believe I cannot bleed, and as a result, am always fascinated when I watch blood leave another's body. Blood darkens over time when it is exposed to the air, but before it does, it is a very becoming shade of red, one that reminds me of the petals of a plush rose. There is a true grace when this liquid spills over tile and threatens the bristles of a carpet. It is like a forbidden pool. It is like the portal to another world. It is almost like the Sunwell. There is a thrill and entertainment that lights up the eyes.

"_I have truly done this. I am a god. I take life from others,"_ you think to yourself. And alas, most become intoxicated by this power. It is glorious, however, if one can handle the horrors behind it.

Krysinna's father was a far more worthy adversary, well-versed with a sword. Knowing I would need to dispose of both frames, I brought with me a spade, something easily obtained from the merchants in the area. Apparently, there are few who truly enjoy gardening, and my purchase invoked surprise, but of a pleasant kind.

At any rate, it took a rather forceful blow to the face to render her paternal figure momentarily helpless. Snapping internal parts are always so amusing and even as I reminisce about it now, I am tempted to chuckle.

Two bodies in the house. Common sense and survival instincts will tell you to cover your tracks. Anyone who fails to do so would simply be categorized as one who yearns for attention. I needed to be around for the aftermath. That could not happen if I was suddenly thrust behind bars. The plan was to continue.

On the northeast of the isle, there is a beautiful coast where children play and flowers grow. It would be too noticeable to find mounds; so instead, it seemed easier to make the two copious amounts of flesh into smaller pieces. Around the bases and roots of the trees, I buried these pieces and like a true landscape artist, I decorated this ground with rocks, pebbles, and shells gathered from the beach.

Also beneath that shore somewhere are my clothes. At times, I cannot stand the smell of copper blood upon me. I tend to enjoy staying clean, and I never had the intent to wear that ridiculous outfit again.

Now to create someone or something else to frame requires deeper thought. Krysinna was the daughter of arcane users. Nothing works more perfectly than holding creatures obsessed with arcane responsible.

Who do you know like that?

Consider what our former leader became. Wretched. They were perfect. It would be anticipated that they would kill for arcane as our kind are renowned for being stubborn. To further this theory, I retrieved all objects of arcane value from the home. As a final touch, they were planted in the Wretched-infested lands of the ruins of our city.

Absolutely perfect.

The sun begins to rise now. My hands show no signs of my deeds, however I still feel the tingle of another's blood upon my fingertips. A shudder of anxiety climbs my spine, the way a ranger would the side of Blackrock Mountain, assuming one ever had a reason to. I do not need a mirror to know my eyes sparkle with glee.

In my right hand, I carry the only two things I kept from my victims. I have plans of creating a decoration for my hair, a present and praise to myself for my achievements.

I have saved a young woman from a cage. I have become her rescuer, though she will never know of it. She is free now to unfurl her wings and to take flight. I do not know, however, where Krysinna will fly to. She is liberated. She will never again feel those shackles around her ankles. She will understand why fate has allowed this to happen.

My eyes brighten. I can feel it. It is the same feeling I have always had when the truth has been shown to my gaze.

I truly am a god, not a messenger for one.

_I am one._

How my heart cries with joy and an ecstasy with my success.

**Glory to Soryk Valchion, the God of Liberation.**


	6. Entry 5

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #5<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in finer script than the norm. This may be a sign of Soryk's progression of personal feelings towards himself and his actions. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

Everything worked the way I had wished for it to. What I may have neglected to consider was that sorrow leads to rage.

I found Krysinna on my return from the isle. This may be an odd thing to hear from me, however, a woman is so much more beautiful when she's angry, the way her thin eyebrows narrow and the pout of her astoundingly plush lips. I am hardly annoyed when faced by loathing and hatred. If Krysinna were this way always, then I would enjoy her company more often.

Perhaps.

(Most likely I am being influenced by her most recent behavior. No matter how she may act, she is still the same repulsive creature.)

The first step is complete.

Consider for a moment, if you will, that physically harming another is all well and good. In order to truly destroy him, however, one must destroy his spirit. This is far easier than it sounds. Allow me to explain.

People are often motivated by either material objects or others in their life who are thought to be of sentimental importance. In spite of one's hard exterior, there is _always_ a weakness. It is this factor we must discover. Once it is found, there are two pathways available.

The first is to take a stealthy route. Create a scheme that presents the hypothetical situation to the victim.

"_Excuse me, good sir, but I am conducting research on the former lord. As you know, he held affections for Lady Proudmoore on Kalimdor. How do you think he would have responded if she were subjected to detriment?"_

And then…

"_How would have you responded if you were in his predicament?"_

This option is for those who are more interested in analyzing the psychological aspects of the situation. For me, it is amusing to see what levels of Hell I can bring someone through. I am most interested in the replies and the actions taken in consequence. How far must I push someone in order to watch them crumble? That is always the most enjoyable wait.

_As though I took a mace to the mirror that is your heart. What will you do now? Tell me all about it._

After all, it's important for a god to watch over his people.

The second pathway is for those who lack eloquence. It's quite easier than the first as well. Once the vulnerability has unveiled itself, you hastily jump onto it and annihilate, obliterate, and otherwise destroy it beyond recognition. Then you watch the fireworks.

The end result is the same; however the latter option is considered more irrational and possibly categorized as an 'unprovoked' action. That is not the proper step taken by a god. It is more for one pretending to be a celestial form.

Now you may be assuming that my personal murders were unprovoked also. Please keep in mind that I had prior motivation for why I was doing such things and what the long-term results would entail. I thought about it before executing said actions. Therefore, it is not to be thought of as so barbaric. Cruel perhaps, yet not exactly primitive.

Ah, what was my original intent behind all of this?

Krysinna. Right.

Up until this moment, you may have been thinking that I care about her to a great degree. Unfortunately [for her], that is not the case. If you are seeing it that way, then I am at least succeeding. I aim to be seen as the man raising his blades to defend his lady fair. Chivalrous you may call it, though I am anything but a knight.

On the subject of these fangled idealists, knights, I once knew of one who had slain a dragon for his lady. One who would go so far is admirable and should be commended for his ambition. If he showed such an adamant nature for something as fickle as love, then he must pursue all traits of his life with that same perspective.

I should like to meet him one day and shake his hand in that formal fashion.

"_Congratulations, Sir, you are the person I will never be. Consider yourself fortunate that a god has recognized your talents."_

Then I would laugh. Perhaps.

How easily I distract myself.

Krysinna, the bright priestess, was consumed by a fiery hatred. It was delightful. As I watched her club Wretched after Wretched, I nearly emitted a sound of glee. Her beautiful dress, the one of pastel blues and greens, was stained with blood. It reminded me that the Wretched are not as different from us as most like to think. A Wretched is similar to a Sin'dorei claimed by insanity.

How utterly delicious.

She turned and saw me. I gave away nothing. Perhaps one day I will tell her that I was the one responsible for liberating her. When I do, however, it will be in her final moments on the surface of Azeroth. I wish to stare deep into those green eyes as I tell her that I killed her guardians and mentors in life. I wish to see her expression contort as I choke the air from her frail body.

"_You believed you were truly good enough to be at my side. You were a fool, nothing more than a mere pawn in my game. Thank you so much for playing, Lady Krysinna, but your part is over. I don't need you anymore. Give your parents' my regards in the afterlife."_

As I stared at her and took in every lovely feature, it suddenly hit me. She was but a child. She may not have been ready for this action, yet there it was. There was no turning back. I found her in my arms, crying into my vest.

Now then, this vest I was wearing… I like it. _A lot._ It's comfortable. It looks good on me. It's an appropriate color for my complexion. For those reasons, I was extremely hesitant to let her cling to me. _"You're staining my clothes,"_ I wanted to say. Surely she would have sobbed more if I had, though. Tears are not so becoming. I said nothing in response to her stuttered cries of protest. Instead, I smoothed her hair.

One string has been cut. How many more will follow? I will dive into these possibilities later and tell you what I plan to do next. Then you can decide what you choose to see me as, not that it will offer you any benefits. I act as I wish and your input means absolutely nothing.

Since that day, Krysinna has improved. Weeks later, she confessed that she was relieved. Can you believe it? With no influence from me whatsoever, she admitted that she was relieved her maternal and paternal units were no more. Is this the innocence of a child, or the corruption driven by hatred? Perhaps I have become the god of fortune as well. How fitting.

In the absence of her parents, she has taken to attaching herself to me. _"You won't leave me, will you?"_ she asks often with that pathetic expression, as though she can do nothing on her own. She has very few people left in the world and claims I am her only friend.

Wonderful. If I were not bent on destroying her completely, I would sooner hang myself. Alas, a god cannot die. For now, I am doomed to her companionship and many more of her poor cooking attempts.

(Honestly, raw meat is far better before she places her hands upon it.)

I returned to Silvermoon from southern Quel'thalas only to be happily greeted by her. Unrelenting, she proceeded on interrogating me. This sort of behavior I frown upon. I do not want her attempting to crawl around in my head. I don't care if I can turn her into my servant. She is a woman, a disgusting parasite of burden, and better off deceased like all of the others.

To confront her, I was straight forward. _"Why do you want to know these things?"_ I inquired of her, annoyance clear within my voice. She ignored the tone and her response turned my attention immediately to the bush on my left.

"_I should know more about someone before I allow myself to fall for him, don't you think?"_

Come again? 'Fall for'? When did this turn into her believing she could consider loving me? Yes, it had been my intent to seduce her, but I work carefully and with great caution. Yet here she is with her 'righteous' lifestyle and speaks so freely over such things.

I am not comfortable in this situation. Most of the time, I ignore such comments. As I tried to do this, she grew angry. Ah, the fury of a woman. Perhaps I am to act subservient to her for now. It is all a part of the plan, after all. The closer I allow her, the more she will be captured by my spell. Her pain in the end will be so much more prominent. I will have to suffer through it—just for now.

With an arm around her, she rested her head against my chest. I glared at that bush. How I wished I had the ability to burst it into flame with a mere look from my eyes. It would have been the perfect diversion. Unfortunately…

Krysinna's lips are soft. I wonder if she knows just how gentle she looks when controlled by her fancies. For this, I have chosen to act in the manner most becoming to her. The walls must appear as though they are beginning to be broken down.

I must make Kyros come to life for her.

"_What makes you happy, Kyros?" _she asks as she holds my chin in her delicate right hand.

I react simply, with no hesitance, _"Seeing you happy, Krysinna."_ She must believe I am genuine.

Her cheeks flush, a color similar to the pink flowers in the woods. Then she smiles, _"Those are sweet words. I would be sad if they were not true."_

Ah, right. Truth. _"You do not need it, but I will be your champion. Sincerity in the purest form."_ And to emphasize my words, I bestow another kiss upon her lips.

Kyros Valchion, the champion of Krysinna is born.

I am no longer simply a god, but rather something that is made more than eternal.

Now I must move onto the next act of this play. What, Krysinna, shall I destroy next?

_Who else holds influence over you?_


	7. Entry 6

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #6<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in small script, that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

How do you know when your path has truly ended? Perhaps for the unfortunate there is no 'finish line'. For those kinds, it is a never-ending race between the individual and his misery. _"Run faster,"_ it demands. _"Run further."_ In spite of what appears to be an invincible nature, one cannot possibly 'win'.

Consider the following, if you please.

The end result in an eternal struggle with poverty is death. Some, though not a majority, would consider that end to be fitting. Death is, at times, far more livable than life itself. Think about how I am phrasing that. _"Death… is more… livable? Soryk Valchion, you're off your rocker!"_ Of course I'm not. I just happen to hold interesting outlooks on the smaller [and most often finer] things.

Death, no matter what the victim feels, is a gift to that sorrow, to that black oblivion. _"I have brought yet another down by my clutches!"_ it happily proclaims. With this safe assumption, we can conclude that death's embrace is fodder for the darkness that overhangs us.

Now then, you are surely wondering what the point was to me mentioning this. Tell me, what role do you suppose I play? Am I the misunderstood victim that merely does what he must to survive? Or am I the darkness searching for my next influence to destroy? Perhaps I am one who has merely seen both sides to the equation?

I already know the answer to this, but I implore you to find it for yourself. After all, what fun would it be if I always gave you the answers? People should be forced into contemplation, and from what I have seen, all of you are in dire need of this.

My chiding ends there. I will be 'touching base' on a previous subject that was surely found to be of interest.

I asked before, to myself, who else Krysinna had, excluding me. Who else possibly influences her pathway as an aspiring acolyte? She has neglected to mention any other family. It is plausible and yet unlikely that she would keep this sort of information from me. I am her liberator. I am her god. Krysinna worships me with childlike eyes, which is precisely how it should be. I have no insecurities concerning her. Thusly, we return to the original position.

To be an 'aspiring' anything, one must be answering to someone else. In Krysinna's life, who is that person to her? If you have not already figured this out, I am certainly not a wielder of the light. Not directly, of course. Whoever this person may be, however, he (or she, as reluctant as I may be to consider that a woman can lead others) is responsible for further restraining the brunette connected to me.

How absolutely daring it would be were I to destroy this individual! I realize also that there is most likely a ladder of succession. Even if I were to do this, the person killed would only be replaced by someone else. The initial murder would force the guardians in red to scurry from the shadows, making it difficult for me to proceed further. Well, difficult for anyone else. For a god, it is merely a minor annoyance.

If I wanted to, truly wanted to, I could simply hunt down all of those participating in the priesthood.

"_Where is your precious light now? You fall by my blades to your own foolish behavior! No longer shall you claim to lead your disciples into purity!"_

One might as well dress me in robes and call me the leader. I am the truly righteous one. My path is truly the one for those others to take.

Alas, that would cause such uproar. I absolutely loathe getting dirty. Just the mere thought at such a mass confusion makes me dance on the edge of filth.

Soryk, you devilishly-handsome god you, will need a different approach.

Krysinna once told me that her pathway was to help others. Is it merely me, or does she do this because she looks at others and sees their own actions? Could it be that she really has no true direction for herself? What if…

**What if I could take advantage of this?**

Cause her to question her motives… Coerce her to serve me instead. I would be subtle, of course. When she realized what she had stumbled upon, it would be too late. Her time would expire. After all, that is the price one pays for my discovery.

So I ask you, loyal follower, what do you think? Oh, nonsense! You have no thoughts of your own. That's why you're my follower in the first place. I was merely teasing you. Do not acquire artificial hope for something you will never obtain. No thoughts from you means less hassle for me.

I believe I shall do this. I will need to be patient, though. Fortunately for me, a god has nothing but time.

As I stare at the waterfalls of Elrendar, I think my next course has come through quite clearly. Take my hand, oblivious disciple, and let us bathe. All of this talk and discussion has made me feel terribly soiled.


	8. Entry 7

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #7<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in small script, that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

Is it not interesting how paths have the possibility to cross? Some people believe this is a work of predestination. Others see it as coincidence.

Who cares what others think, though? You're interested in my thoughts, and why shouldn't you be? I'm deep and often lose myself in quiet contemplation. It isn't easy to find people like that.

I'm one of a kind, baby.

And I. Just. Shuddered.

'Baby.' What a repulsive term. People ought to have a little more sophistication. Being refined is an admirable trait. One should find a decent balance between the two.

With that minor aggravation out of the way, let's continue to the proper path.

I was discussing matter of coincidence and something predicted (or in some cases, dictated) by a higher power. I came across this the other day.

Ah. _"Why are you writing about it now?"_ you ask. Well, I had other things to attend to. I suppose you could say I am not acting like myself. I am not quite feeling like myself. I would blame it on Priestess Krysinna, however, that does not apply as I have not seen her recently.

What a terrible champion I am. What if something happened to her? Well, first I would be disappointed as I wasn't the one to harm her. Then… No, wait. I would only be disappointed.

Again, this distraction was not caused by Krysinna, though she is one by herself. This, I blame on a young woman who appears to be… attempting to become me. Not a man, of course, but rather a pirate of the land.

Her hair is like Krysinna's, brown in shade. It's a delightful brown, much like mine; the kind of hair I could gobble up were it edible. Her face is young, as though she was just a child. When she speaks, her expressions give her away. There is an innocence about her, so much like Krysinna's.

No. I am not obsessed with the priestess. There are simply similarities. Please don't get the wrong idea.

So this girl I am speaking of, I saw her while I observed a party in Eversong Woods. There is a home west of Fairbreeze Village that is always harboring a great number of gatherings. It is a wonderful place to obtain trinkets, charms, and in other words, pocket change. Even I know that if I am to get anywhere, I will need funds to get there. I could be a hero, almost.

Stealing from the rich to benefit the poor.

And by 'poor' I mean me. Perhaps that doesn't make me heroic, after all. Then again, no one else would need to know what was truly going on. Sounds like a story if I've ever heard one. Something to share with the nonexistent future offspring.

Listen to me go on and on and on. Someone who does very little talking learns much and could continue waxing his lips with all of that knowledge. Let's move on, shall we?

They were playing cards, the three of them I had chosen to keep an eye on. One was a humble magician by the name of Pyrites. The second was a young man named Eldwin Shadowhair, who affectionately referred to himself as the 'Gambler of Souls'.

Now, please pardon me for I'm going to explore another fork briefly.

'Gambler of Souls'? Honestly? Are people so idiotic to gamble with something that cannot be proven exists? Have you ever seen a soul? No! Of course not! It's not as though we can simply take a soul and put it into a jar. I am well aware that those… Hm… Warlocks and witches, correct? Now, they supposedly extract souls from humans and animals alike. Those are compressed into what are called 'soulshards', but that isn't simply a soul.

I heard this title and nearly guffawed. What complete and utter nonsense! Surely it was all to impress the young woman I spoke of before. Women. How they corrupt us, perhaps even more than gold, silver, copper, and power combined. For the flutter of an eyelash, the masculine gender will massacre a town.

What a waste of time.

As far as I'm concerned, I would only massacre a villa because it was 'fun'. The screams are amusing. Not that I've ever done it before. It just sounds like a splendid time. Aside from the bloodstains, of course.

Let's go back to that woman, if you please. She introduced herself as Atê Alexemia. A mouthful, really. There is something pleasant about it, though. Perhaps it may be the idea that she is so young that someone can prevent her from falling in with her kind. Yes, by 'someone' I mean me. I could always use another disciple, after all. Krysinna needs a friend.

The difficulty comes here. Miss Alexemia is not easy to charm. Part of me enjoys this as the pursuit will be more rewarding. The other part of me knows it will be taxing. Do I spend my time with this? Or should I work the priestess more and wait for my chance?

If I do not take initiative, I may miss out.

With clouded judgements (perhaps; she seemed to drink quite a bit), she made plans to have a 'date' with that magician. I'm sure he feels fortunate now.

Allow me to summarize a date for you, by the way. It would be where one and at least one other are allowed exclusive time together, which normally involved slobbering on each other.

Repulsive.

That isn't important. I was amused by this outcome, of course. It only got better, though. Imagine my pleasant surprise when I found Miss Alexemia sitting by a fire in Bloodhoof Village.

Perhaps I am the God of Fate as well…


	9. Entry 8

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #8<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in small script, that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

The Grey Wolves.

This is what Miss Alexemia was attending the day that I found her in Bloodhoof Village. Now, what could such an innocent-looking young lady be doing, offering her presence to a faction that sounds less than righteous?

Let us examine the name and you will understand where I am arriving at this conclusion. Grey is a color that is often used to represent the two ideas that there is either a lack of clear moral value or there are magnitudes of 'good' or 'bad' things regarding a situation. This mixture of black and white can also be considered an example of mediocrity, something that is found in all things living or non. To add upon this theory, many people are likely to compare the similarities between grey and things that are thought of as 'dull' or 'boring'.

Reaching the final road, the color grey symbolizes a lack of optimism, otherwise known as the state of pessimism. It seems unnatural for a young lady to be so interested in something of this demeanor. I do not think Miss Alexemia belongs in here one bit.

Wolves. These are solitary creatures by nature, when they are not on the hunt. Clearly those involved in this faction will aim to become a pack of wild and untamed things. Could it be that I am on the verge of discovering a potential harbor for great chaos? If that is the case, then perhaps even I will fit in perfectly well. It _has_ been quite some time since I have delved into anything remotely associated with anarchy.

For the sake of Miss Alexemia and from my own interests, I extended my hand in alliance with the leading authority, Phibrizo Damascus Fairborne. Now that is a name if I have ever heard one. Just a single look at this man, and one can see gallantry. He stands with a set of broad shoulders and a perfect posture. Is this man a knight of some kind? I imagine him to be the type that the young girls would always read books about.

"_Oh, how I wish a man like him would come and rescue me!"_ they would exclaim in those disgustingly high tones, before swooning and collapsing to the ground. How absolutely obnoxious. And it is for reasons like this that I absolutely cannot withstand that feminine gender.

This raises an interesting question, however. Since Krysinna has requested me to be her champion, could we then say that I too, am like a prince? Krysinna's prince, perhaps? And since we're on the subject of the little priestess…

My return to Silvermoon City led me straight to her. There is something quite sickening about the happy grin she gives me when her eyes meet mine. I was so certain this time that she would throw herself at me. Fortunately for me, she did no such thing. It was terribly bothersome, though. Her enthusiasm is a bit too much for me to handle.

She would come in handy, though. In the bazaar on the other side of the city, Miss Alexemia was speaking with the man who had placed the irritating fliers all over. This man, this… Flamesong character, he is going to make things difficult. This means he will need to be eradicated—eventually. Clearly, I have more important to things to attend to than to waste my time on him. Of course, logically speaking, a god can accomplish his tasks by simply stepping over the obstacles and moving along. It seems I will be doing that as I pursue Miss Alexemia's attention.

Krysinna would allow me the opportunity to be near the more innocent of my kind. If I were set in good graces, then I may have been privileged to hear more of the conversation. That's assuming I wanted to hear more of it. I had previously left when they began discussing physical intimacy.

I will confess here and now, that this word is not on a comfortable level for me. It is… Oh, how to say… I cannot say that I have not had this experience before, as that would deem me one who lies. I will not go into great detail, or any at all for that matter, however, this time and this turn of events did exist in my life. That is not to say I am comfortable with it. Miss Alexemia, on the other hand, seems to enjoy the idea quite a bit. I may have to change myself in order to obtain her attention then.

And I ask myself, _"Why do I even want her attention? She is still but a woman."_ Then I remember that I had high hopes for her. As I observe her more and more, she is becoming predictable for me. Perhaps. It may be that I have simply not watched her enough. I may need to change this in the future. Possibly.

Enough of this, Soryk! You speak so much of the brunette scallywag!

Do you remember when I mentioned the idea of helping Krysinna along the way of questioning her beliefs? I did exactly this. I explained to her that it was important for her to question her motives. She, at first, did not understand what I meant when I brought up the topic.

"_Krysinna, do you believe that the actions you take are based on what you think is expected of you, or what you truly believe you wish to do? Do you do what you __**think**__ is right, or what you __**feel**__ is right?"_ I asked her, only to receive a befuddled expression in response.

It took a few loops in order for her to understand where I was coming from. Yet she has finally seen what I had meant to explain. She believes her actions of helping others are truly the right things to do. I cannot argue this. I am not her. I do not know how she feels with that complicated heart of hers. I will support her only as far as I can.

I enjoy testing my boundaries with this woman. She is a complex creature, one that most often I do not understand. Miss Alexemia's conversation with Klavier Flamesong was still running rampant within my mind. I blame those thoughts for the actions I took next.

"_Kyros, what are you doing?"_ Krysinna asked me as I took her by the wrist and drew her in closely.

She has never known how much I enjoy looking into her eyes, peering into her soul. She has never known exactly how it torments me from time to time, considering how I am on the pathway to destroy her. I could ask myself many times over if this was the right thing to do, and yet that will not matter in the end. All that matters is the here and the now.

I responded fluidly. _"I was attempting to gain your attention. Did it work?"_

Krysinna rewarded her champion with a kiss. If only I did not feel as though I would lose the food in my stomach each time she did anything of this nature. It is only ever all right when I choose to do it of my own accord. Her subtle advances of this nature invoke in me a great discomfort.

I withdrew.

Remembering that I had brought items for her enjoyment, I withdrew the special parcel I had put together for her. Then with graceful arms, I offered it to her.

The last thing I truly remember hearing was that high-pitched feminine squeal. _"You got me a kitty! It's so cute, Kyros!"_

If I were the God of Death, I would be killing myself right about now. Only a god can kill another god, and unfortunately, it would seem I am the only one of my kind. In this respect, one day I hope to meet someone who is worthy of being given the same title as myself.

One day.


	10. Entry 9

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #9<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in small script, that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

The mercenary group I inadvertently chose to join has grown in numbers. There was one woman that I met the day of my addition. I neglected to mention her before as I did not know her well enough. That is not to claim that I know of her any better than I did before, however, I have a bit more understanding.

Her name is Aerybeth DuskFalcon. It seems appropriate. She is a mute, or so I would believe. I do not think I have ever once heard a word leave her lips. Instead, she uses the very same stones the rest of the Wolves hold in order to remain in contact with one another. While I have not used mine, I am more than capable of hearing the others through it. Once more, it is a tool to observe the others, not necessarily to be involved. I appreciate that in comparison to an outright participation in their personal lives.

At any rate, she holds an air of doubt about her. Her thoughts seem as though they are jumbled at times, and others, she simply makes very little sense. I'm a 'no nonsense' type of guy, so I tend to prefer things that have logic or method behind them. In that respect, I suppose it's easier to say that I could endure the company of a woman if she wasn't a babbling idiot who spoke about nothing.

My leading authority, Fairborne, was in the Undercity the other day. I did what I do best when I see my cohorts and decided that in order to observe them, sneaking through the shadows was better than standing by idly. He was speaking with two others I had never seen before. Both were of the undead faction, very possibly members of the Forsaken. I don't take the time to get acquainted with those of that nature, as they hold very little relevance to me.

The first introduced herself as Gerd Aldlander. With straps across her face, it's difficult for me to tell if she's blind or simply attempting to make a failing fashion statement. The woman [or what was left of one, anyway] standing before her was sporting the same sort of attraction. The latter referred to herself as Narica, but I now know her as 'lieutenant' as well, though I have never had the privilege of speaking with her. (Once again, it's something I can do without, as she holds very little influence over anything occurring in my life.)

The second, with overly-large and glowing blades called himself Behren, which I have to admit is a very unique and exotic name. If he wasn't falling apart and wouldn't resemble the site of a future archeological dig, I might actually throw in my lot with him and consider him an ally. For now, he's simply someone I know who's working for the same authority.

Let me be a little more in depth for you. The Grey Wolves are a group of mercenaries for hire. If you don't know what a mercenary is, please finish this stanza. Otherwise, feel free to skim through and move along to something more interesting. (Of course, _everything_ I have to say is interesting, so I imagine you'll be reading along anyway.) A mercenary is defined as one who serves or works merely for monetary gain. These types of people are often referred to as 'hirelings', though you'll never hear me consider myself one.

Truth be told, I don't consider myself a mercenary at all, even though that's the position I currently hold. I don't enjoy answering to authoritative figures. In fact, this is the first time I'm seriously responding to the orders that are given to me. Don't get me wrong. I don't particularly mind working for Fairborne. You'll find out why in just a little while here.

As I stated before, Miss Aldlander and Behren are members of the Grey Wolves as well. They seemed polite enough from what I could hear. Sad to say, as I was stealthed and moving through the small tunnel leading from the Undercity's entrance to Silvermoon City, I was far too preoccupied with listening to the conversation taking place between Miss Alexemia and Flamesong, the Farstrider. I wish I could say I was listening completely, but there was a bit too much going on for me to concentrate on one single thing.

The female in question, the one I've been following around lately, disappeared later that evening. What she discussed with one of her many suitors, I do not know, nor do I care to. She has a tendency to mention physical intimacy, which does cause my stomach to twist and turn, much the same way it does every time Krysinna offers me a kiss.

My attention was turned to Fairborne after I'd finally come from my hiding place. He pulled me aside and offered me a position, different from his taskmasters, and different from the other mercenaries.

"_I would like for you to be my eyes and ears. Inform me of the inside ranks, anything you find suspicious, whether it be betrayal or insubordination,"_ was his request.

As though I could possibly turn this down. If there is one thing I am impeccable at, it is the observance of other people. I've been watching everyone from the very beginning. Fairborne must know this, which would explain why he'd want me in such a position. I approve of his acknowledgement of my talents, and even more so that he should want to use them. To some, I may be considered a pawn, for he is using me for his own protection. What they fail to understand, however, is that offers me leverage.

I am well aware of the way his eyes fall over Miss Alexemia. I do not know their connection as of yet, but I do know that I've heard many times over of adolescent boys eager to shed their young exterior and take her to that place known as 'pleasure town'. They express a fear of Fairborne doing something to them in return. This implies that my leading authority is responsible for her protection. As that seems safe to assume, it seems only proper that I shall be doing the same. I can easily remove anyone within the way, by using Fairborne's position to my advantage. By doing this, it will bring me closer to Miss Alexemia, and my own personal goals.

Though I will confess here and now, that I have absolutely no intentions of ever overthrowing Phibrizo Damascus Fairborne. I place this in writing, so that when I have passed, those who read about the legacy of the God of Liberation will be well aware that I meant every word of the written speech. In fact, as you are reading this, all of these texts may be considered the 'gospel'. (I hope to have such a wonderful following, that the possibility of this happening is estimated to be eighty-seven percent.)

Of course, I accepted this responsibility, hiding the grin I wanted oh-so-badly to share with him. This has tempted by darker side, something I must hide for the time being, until I have found the proper person or persons to share it with.

This time shall come some day, and soon, I believe. That is what I feel when the wind blows and when the sun sets each night.

Now then, I have officially informed you of past events. I'll admit, I have not been entirely faithful to this book of memoirs. I will not offer any excuses, however, know that what follows next is of the most recent occurrence and should pique your interest some.

I have told you much of Miss Alexemia; the way her brown hair falls about her face in those darling ringlets, the way her lips pout when she doesn't get her way, and the sarcastic wit that drips from every word that is released. This woman is refreshing, and how! I have been attempting to obtain her attention, whether it be briefly or extended. I had wanted to understand her better, but in order to do so I needed to have an idea of who she is.

What I can tell you quite easily is that she is quite the creature of interest. She stands out. She is conspicuous. She could be considered loud, not audibly, but socially. There are simply traits about her that render her to be very popular with the people on the streets of Silvermoon.

I am, at times, a patient man and perhaps overly so. Following Miss Alexemia often involves me peering through various shrubbery and listening to many conversations take place. The day I caught her in the city bazaar, she was speaking with Pyrites, a man who seems as though he is absolutely terrified of Fairborne should he ever choose to place any sort of advances against the female in question. If there is one thing I have always been certain of, it is that Miss Alexemia is the type who searches for conflict, or may simply not realize that she appears to come off in such a way. She is also the type who enjoys another taking the initiative. It is something I will need to work on.

She became the object of desires from many that day. Not necessarily to carry to physical intimacy, but rather a conversational piece. I might not have gotten to see her at all had I not followed her to the Wayfarer's Inn, where she claimed she would be resting.

Miss Atê Alexemia is a very intelligent woman. Our first meeting invoked a sense of distrust, as she knows next to nothing of me, unlike I, who have been trailing her in an attempt to better comprehend the very person she is. It may have also been due to the idea that there were many people in the inn, including a troll female who was quite persistent to obtain a massage after a busy day of manual labor. This warranted the idea that she [and I] yearned for a location that was a bit quieter.

We sat in the Walk of Elders, on one of the benches. Though a vision at my left, my attention had been turned onto the stars. It was my way of avoiding eye contact. There are times when I believe that one who is prying into me will stare, thinking they will discover some hidden agenda of mine. I do not condone of this behavior and most often try to prevent it. Again, Miss Alexemia had every right to dig for information. To appease her, I offered her what I have offered to no other.

My name.

"_Soryk,"_ I commented as I looked over to her. She had asked for my name before at the inn, and I gave my last. Consider it an attempt to gain her trust.

She seemed very nonchalant with her response, scarcely even glanced up when she spoke, _"Bless you."_

Fates bless this girl! Sometimes her reactions are so entertaining, that I could simply make verbal stabs for an eternity in quiet anticipation of what her retorts would be. Of course, it would be rude of me to pursue this avenue, and for her sake, I will not torment her so.

I very nearly cracked a smile. Instead, she only saw the vague upturn of my lips. _"You asked for my name before. Soryk. Soryk Valchion."_

Miss Alexemia accepted this answer. There is always a catch to offering my name, however, and you, as the diligent reader you are, were most likely aware of this. I requested that it was to be the name she would call me when it was simply the two of us. And then I walked into a trap, and I will admit, a delightful one.

"_What makes you think there will be more times like this?"_ she asked with that curious glint in her eyes, which are clearly not simply Sin'dorei. I could not tell if her tone was clipped, defensive, or equally inquisitive as her entire expression transformed.

By this time, I'd had my left arm around her, something that was not initially part of my scheme, yet necessary for the female in my midst. Like Krysinna, she had rested her head upon my shoulder, and this time I was not tense. This girl, Miss Alexemia, can detect uncertainty and doubt. It is essential that I hide all possibilities of this showing, in spite of my rather apparent dislike for the feminine gender and other related issues.

I explained the idea that I very well may have good fortune, for my arm was in one piece and still attached to my body. She seemed to concur with this logic and we spoke on more. She claims to dislike complicated things as she does not find enjoyment in over thinking. Again, I will need to prevent myself from falling into my habits. I must avoid the idea of becoming dull or boring to her. She has decided to make all things quite interesting for me. I cannot say I disapprove.

How you entertain me, Miss Alexemia. Yet I feel I may be the one being toyed with.

"_You're talking to me…"_ she began as she allowed me to bring her in closer. A woman who pauses in her words invokes contemplation with me. _"…This can mean only one thing."_

Not true. It could actually mean quite a few different things given my perspective. I was talking to her. I was talking _with_ her, unlike with the priestess, with whom I simply continuously inquire things of. On the other hand, she is intimidated of me, unlike Miss Alexemia.

I waited to hear more. And she did not disappoint.

"_You have no intentions to bed me."_

Now then. These are not words I have had bestowed upon me before. Any other man (or woman, for that matter) very well may have jumped up and madly protested. My own reaction was as calm as every other that I choose to show. Of course, my insides were somewhat aflutter with the idea that she even possibly could have chosen to say this aloud and in a rather public area.

Intelligent she is, however, perhaps she could use some work. Ignoring the cough that came from an innocent man admiring the beauty of the world, I inquired if she certainly desired such a thing and why. I was offered the reasoning that she should want the experience should she ever 'fall in love', as she so aptly put it.

"_Do not fall in love with me—I will only bring you a world of misery."_

She said this to me, and as she spoke, I could only think that if I ever chose to use words to describe a relationship with me, I would use those as well. This surprised me. It befuddled me. It perplexed me. And then it worried me.

It is highly unlikely that I could fall in love with anyone or anything. Once again, I won't be going into detail, and yet, I do know what that feeling is like. My intentions with Miss Alexemia are nothing of the sort. She seemed not to understand this, however, and I really had no other way to prove my case. Nothing aside from the obvious, anyway.

This offer to bed her. I claimed it was negotiable, and that was how it began. She voiced her preference for someplace quiet, and through an idiotic action of my own, I confused her request with a particular square in the city. We scouted the second inn, however, and even that would not harbor the privacy that we needed. I ignored her giggles in the idea that I, the great Soryk, could possibly do something wrong, and instead escorted her to Falconwing Square.

It's a quiet place most of the time, and upon our arrival, it was absolutely perfect. The silence that hung about the air gave me the ability to look at her, not a simple glance, but to closely examine her. Much of my time has been spent with crawling through her head. I hadn't taken too much time to analyze the more trivial features.

I held her close to me in that protective way, considering the idea that it has been a very long time since I've been that close to someone. I indulged in every curve, every intricate contour of her form. Up until this moment, you have listened to me as I have very possibly gone stark-raving mad with the notion of females. There is another half to this that even I realize, and that I may not have truly contemplated until the night Miss Alexemia spent with me.

No matter how coarse they may sometimes be, women are also fragile and delicate. The one who accompanied me, and the one for whom I am her champion are not exceptions to this rule. I have killed men and women alike, as proven by the actions I took against Krysinna's maternal and paternal units. I will admit, however, that there is a type of self-loathing that occurs when I am faced with executing an action like that against females. Some of those types deserve it, and others do not.

I have never believed that Miss Alexemia was one of the former. I have continuously stated that I merely wanted to influence her. I do also recognize her potential for doing the same to me, and with that notion, I am well aware that I will need to defend myself. I have let her come close enough for the time being, but until I see the opening of a trap she may lay, I will treat her as kindly as she deserves. My consideration will know of no boundaries in her regards.

I would like to think she was sure of herself in all aspects. As I held her, as I kissed her plush lips, however, I knew this wasn't the case. It may have been my imagination, but I felt her shiver, of this I am certain. Not because she was cold, of course, but rather because she was ruled by her fear. I did not even ask. Instead, I jumped headfirst in with my assumptions.

"_For tonight,"_ I began in the tone that precedes most of my statements, _"simply stay with me, so that you will not feel so pressured to meet these ridiculous standards. We will work up to your aspiration later."_

It wasn't me asking for her permission. It was me telling her how I thought things should go, and she accepted it. Of course, even she had her own little twist on how things would proceed, however.

"_Clothing is optional, right?"_


	11. Entry 10

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #10<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment, in small script, that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

"_What is it exactly that you do when you go away, Kyros?"_

It wasn't exactly the question I wanted to hear. It also wasn't one of those subjects I wanted to get involved in. In my entire time of working as a mercenary for the Grey Wolves, I had convinced myself that Krysinna wouldn't hear a thing of them. Something changed my mind that night, however. I'd left Miss Alexemia in the peaceful covers of the room we always stay at in Falconwing Square.

I'll be brutally honest here. I don't sleep well at night, if at all. It's not uncommon to find me wandering the streets of Silvermoon or even through the woods. I imagine if one were to look upon me, they'd see the eyes of a man who is no longer in reality, but rather a world he has made for himself.

"_What does it look like?"_ you ask. That's a good question. I'm not sure I'm willing to indulge you just yet. Give me a little more time and I'll eventually come around. It's just not the proper time yet.

I'll admit, however, I do spend these nights off in my own little paradise, it seems. This isn't an escape. It's simply how I choose to see things with my eyes. You see what you want to, and I'll do the same. Agree to disagree and that's all that needs to be said. If you're really bothered so much by it, then take your problems to someone else who actually cares. I'm not the right person and there's not a very high probability that I'll actually listen.

Right. I don't particularly care for people who have complaints. At least, not when they're complaining about me. If one is complaining about his or her personal life, that doesn't bother me so much—not if they're doing something to change it and aren't having the most fortuitous outcomes. If they expect me to save them, then that's something entirely different.

Let's keep in mind that Krysinna doesn't fall into that category. She's a disciple. She's allowed to ask of me whatever she wants. (It just doesn't guarantee she's going to get what she requested.)

I'm getting distracted. One of these days, that will stop. It implies that I'm incapable of having comprehensive thought. I'm more organized than these entries may imply. Again, your opinion doesn't matter, so don't bother sharing it, unless you're going to tell me how wonderful I am. You might not need to do that, though, because I already know.

At any rate…

We were discussing Krysinna and the curiosity that sometimes needs to be quelled. In that respect, I would love nothing more than to mercilessly squeeze the very life out of her body. There's something about holding her limp frame in my arms that excites me, that thrills me, perhaps even more so than the blood of her maternal and paternal units forever staining my hands. There is beauty in blood, yes, but I find beauty in a form that no longer moves as well.

Just pat me on the head and call me twisted.

**I'm kidding.**

I succumbed to the priestess and explained that they were a group of mercenaries. In her lap was the pet cat I had recovered for her. I suppose it's a cute creature, not that 'cute' is really the kind of word I would use. She seems to like it. I felt it was appropriate for her, so she would miss me less, and that's exactly the way it needs to be. I can't have her following me everywhere because she would simply be an obstruction. It would be another situation where she'd be of better use to me dead.

As I told her of my occupation, she grew a look in the eyes. It's the one that every parent has seen. The eyes grow wide, the skin becomes pale, and the hands tighten. I, of course, never do anything like that, but to humor you, just remember that I'm talking about fear.

"_What if… You mean they'll do any job for a price? But… But what price?"_ she asked in that quivering voice.

I inwardly groaned and resisted every urge to get up from my comfortable sitting position and walk away. _"Don't let her cry,"_ I pleaded to whatever fellow god was watching over me. _"Whatever you do, just don't make her eyes leak. I don't handle that sort of thing well. Besides, she'll ruin the shirt that Atê got for me."_

Honesty with Krysinna is often the best way to go, and it was the pathway I chose to take. I explained to her that mercenaries took on various tasks for whoever chose to pay the most. It's hard for anyone not in that position to understand why things happen that way.

If you don't understand as well, allow me to explain. Some people can get away with making an honest living. Mercenaries are doing exactly what you are. They're fighting for their survival. If that means they have to lob a few heads off of people, then you know, that's a pretty damn good price to continue living. You might be asking why I do it, since I can't die (being a celestial being and all). Simple.

**I enjoy it.**

So that's how it goes. Mercenaries do what they need to do. Just because it's not the same as what you do doesn't mean it's wrong or improper. Just means we're allowed to live our lives the way we want to. Have fun figuring that one out if you're exceptionally thick in the skull.

When Krysinna asked me if mercenaries hurt others, I really had no intent to lie to her. And then she caught me.

"_You would never do that, would you?"_

I could say that I faltered in my composure and nearly lost it, but that wouldn't be true. I run into this sort of conflict all of the time. I was prepared this time, and I did what I do in other situations like this. I evaded it, by explaining to her that no one would ever harm her. Why do I believe this so strongly? Because I'm guarding her.

As much as it seems like I may treat her as nothing more than a follower, I also know her use as long as she's alive. This means I'll keep her alive for as long as I can possibly withstand her. It wouldn't work very well if someone decided to stick their nose in and ruin my schemes. In fact, I'm pretty sure they'd find themselves a nice public display of what happens when someone attempts to oppose me. I suppose this means I am a bit of a tyrant, but only to those on the wrong side, or those attempting to hinder me.

This means stay the hell out of my way.

Fortunately for me, Krysinna accepted my explanation and my fierce protection over her. When I stated the hour was simply growing too late for me, she hastily picked up her feline companion, begged me to wait for her for only a few moments, and then dashed off towards the Wayfarer's Inn.

"_Great,"_ I thought to myself. _"What could she possibly want?"_ She seems to forget at times that I have important things to attend to. Like Atê. I'm not too sure where I'm going with her just yet and I feel like I need some more support beneath my feet. I think I'll arrive at a conclusion very soon. Perhaps.

When Krysinna regained my attention, I found the priestess sporting a white gown, something she'd clearly made herself. I imagine most of the time she spends when she is not training or with me, she is working on with her threads and needles. I have quite a few items that she's made for me, and for a while, she was complaining about how barbaric I would dress. (That is, until I finally purchased for myself something more becoming. Even I have to admit that I'm quite a beast in it, but then that's to be expected. Heh.)

At any rate, she _did_ look nice. Yet somehow as I examined her and as she insisted that my opinion was dreadfully important, I overlooked it. I'm a mentor to her. Of course she's going to take my opinions to heart. A mentor. That's it. And that's what I'm going to continue telling myself. She cannot possibly complicate things any further.

My staring led me to remind myself of one last thing. Atê was sleeping and I needed to rejoin her side. I'd had enough gallivanting for the evening. I could talk to Krysinna later, and come up with a way to handle all things on the side.

Atê was really the first priority.

As she so recently said, I may be 'incorrigible', but is it truly because of her?


	12. Entry 11

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #11<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment. Soryk's handwriting resembles a rather askew script, as though he has been writing in a rather hasty manner. What could possibly have our beloved antagonist in such an uproar? The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

What I would not give for a simple night's rest.

Azeroth's soils have been unkind to me as of late. It is almost as if my body has grown so accustomed to the bed that Miss Alexemia and I have a tendency to share. Or perhaps it is the idea that my form is so very used to the feeling of a smaller frame pulled against it tightly. There should be no question in your mind that in regards to the relationship Miss Alexemia and I have, I am most certainly the dominant one. Though, I will admit with some pleasantry that my companion has the potential to take on this task one day. I am still deciding if I wish to be involved when that time arrives.

"_If you go to Falconwing and I'm there, then I'm yours."_

She said that to me on our most recent brief conversation. In front of a troll, none the less. Now, this must have been a rather… lacking creature. He did not register to me as having much intellect at all. After all, Miss Alexemia had been less than careful with her words, and I am for absolutely certain that her instructor, Miss Shivaji has been teaching her to be better with such things. There are some events that the public should not know about. What I may or may not teach her beneath the netherweave covers is meant to stay between the two of us. I have very little desire to share it with the city of Silvermoon, or with the random inhabitants of Quel'thalas.

I sometimes feel that I am ruled by her. This feeling does two things. The first, is to concern me. Why does a woman have this ability? Why does she have this over me? And why does she wield it as though she's had it her entire life? It worries me, and a very near and awkward way of stating, I may be intimidated by it. Perhaps.

That may be too strong a word. Let us simply leave it at the point of where I am eternally perplexed. I will find the answers to my questions, however. Mark my words, loyal disciple.

On the other hand, this sort of danger thrills me. It means that at any moment, Miss Alexemia has the potential of turning against me. What would I do if this happened to be the situation? Could I easily snap her thin limbs and rip her apart? My previous actions and thoughts offer me an affirmative, but then it leads me to something much father down, and deeper than I am most often willing to travel.

You may ask yourself this from time to time. _"__Does__Soryk__Valchion__ever__feel__remorse__or__sadness__for__the__things__or__the__people__that__he__destroys?__Or__is__he__capable__of__murdering__a__child__in__cold__blood__without__so__much__as__a__second__thought?__"_

It's a good question. I'll give you that.

There was a point in my life when I truly held no regret for things I had done. I believed I was meant to do this or that and it was simply the way things were meant to be. Then something happened to me.

**Time.**

Time is defined as the following.

'_The system of those sequential relations that any event has to any other, as past, present, or future; indefinite and continuous duration regarded as that in which events succeed one another.'_

It's an idea that affects all creatures in different ways. Some become considered 'hateful' over time. Some, on the other hand, become more compassionate. In my position, you could easily say that I initially began as consumed by loathing, but instead turned faintly compassionate with great influence from outside interference. At any rate, that's how I stand here today, or at least sit, and for this particular duration while I write.

I did state before that I have not been sleeping very well. I would blame this on food, however, even I know that really isn't the case. (Even though Krysinna's food is enough to keep one of those ogres in Outland awake for hours, and most likely clinging to the grass as it wretches all over the damned place.) So you must be wondering what it is that is currently plaguing my mind. If and when I discover this, I will tell you.

Kidding, of course.

Where to begin…

Before all of this, before I began my life as an observer, I was—

No. It is still too early for you to acquire this information on the leading man. We must wait until the second act unfolds.

Allow me to inform you up to this moment if you have failed to pay attention previously. The first act of this impeccably-written performance introduced me, the very heart and soul of this piece, Soryk Valchion. It also brought along my companions, the lovely and naïve priestess, Krysinna, as well as the authoritative figures of the Grey Wolves, Phibrizo Damascus Fairborne and Aerybeth DuskFalcon. To end the particular act, conflict was placed, Miss Atê Alexemia.

The second part will be of my aspiring conquests and my progression as an entity who has been given the privilege to set his feet upon this glorious land. I invite you to have a seat and listen to my tale. You may one day find yourself in precisely a like situation. Lift your hands to the sky, part your lips, and repeat after me.

_I pledge my loyalty to Soryk Valchion, the God of Liberation, the Champion of Krysinna, and the Left Hand of Fate. I lay my life down at his perfect feet and humbly request my servitude to be in his name._

For the opposition, I may enjoy far more cutting you down than for you to submit to me. Now then, follow along and let us see what more shall happen.

The days as of recent have seemed longer. This may merely be my perspective. I have had not the opportunity to lend Atê my company, though I wish for this to a great extent, perhaps greater than I am openly admitting. To a degree there are parts of me that wish for those who know me to only see me in a particular light. Otherwise, they may either learn too much or they may begin to make assumptions over the character that I play. What a tragedy it would be if Fairborne were to believe he was the leading role and I would need to vanquish him with my wit.

The thought of my authority, however, brings a rather odd smile to my face. As I sat with Miss Alexemia in Thunder Bluff, home of the gracious tauren whose hearts are truly in alignment with the planet, I was considering our relationship. Previously, she had introduced me to a troll, the one I had mentioned before. I know not his name, but Atê affectionately referred to him as 'Nich Nich'. This troll, in some ways made me think of Krysinna. His naivety is… amusing and entertaining, as Atê and I can hold adult conversation in front of him and he thinks little of it.

Called away by his master, or wife, or girlfriend, or partner of some kind, it left the brunette and myself. We spoke over the recent events for both of us. I am always far more interested in her progress with Shivaji and her family, the House of Thuranni. Of course, she is always far more concerned with what it is I do when I am not at her side. She has told me before that she does indeed like me, but I must question to what extent. She often requests to spend as much of her time with me. I suppose a part of me ought to feel remarkably significant, however, I am frequently considering the idea that once again, were I to lower my guard, she may use it to her advantage.

Digressing. How I could go on worlds about Miss Alexemia.

Fairborne showed himself.

"_Hm?__How__did__I__end__up__here?__"_ he seemed to mutter before offering us a glance and then skittering away, as though he were simply a frightened cat. (Much like Krysinna's when she begins to raise her voice at me in regards to the differences between felines and creatures like you and me.)

So he must know. Fairborne knows of the relationship Atê and I have? Could this be? I have never been one for hiding it. I am not like Pyrites or any other who may become a suitor for her. I fear not my authority. He knows my priorities lie in my work. What he may not understand, however, is that protecting Miss Alexemia is a part of what I consider obligation. This action was not ordered of me, though; it is something I have chosen to do of my free will.

Yes. Peel from that the implications, my disciples.

Atê and I spoke briefly following that, mainly discussing the definition of what our relationship would be were we ever questioned. While she offered her own of what would be considered truthful, I considered what I would say were I put in that position. Then it brought a very plausible inquiry to me.

_How do **I** feel about her?_

I am not sure how to answer this right now. I am still trying to understand what exactly it is that she wants from me. Could it be that she simply enjoys that I am willing to help her grow a little? Or is it that she is genuinely interested in me as a whole? There are too many questions and I have asked them far too frequently. I really have no time to think about it, and I know that. As work as my priority, I will continue to stand at her side and lend any support she may need, though she is not a princess like Krysinna. She has no need for a prince, and I have no intentions of being that for her. I will simply continue to observe her.

I had decided this the day we found Shivaji in Silvermoon City speaking with an initiate of the Blood Knight Order. I believe he said his name was Izaden Amberstar. Shivaji looked positively delighted to be around him and seemed to even act differently. Atê was clutching my hand that day. We'd had plans to go to Falconwing and were distracted by the two outside of the Wayfarer's Tavern.

In these types of situations, I have always found it was better for me to interject only when absolutely necessary. I enjoy watching my common companion fight her own battles, and prove her strength to me. There is such an ambition within her eyes. Her body gives off nothing except persistence and an adamant nature, two traits that I find amazingly becoming for a woman to wield.

She did what I expected her to do, and proceeded on impressing me to a great degree when she responded to all implied insults and depreciating remarks with an abnormal grace that I am beginning to see more in her. Then we chose to take our leave. Outside of the city, she pouted against the wall, an action that very nearly caused me to chuckle. For as often as I believe she is grown up and mature, she often does childish things that only make me admire her more. Such a refreshing taste of woman she is.

Shivaji had followed us. We knew this only after Atê and I were speaking on public displays of affection, which is something I generally try to avoid. I tend to enjoy being more… subtle with my actions. I feel there is an eloquence about such actions that they deserve to be shared simply by the two involved. In this case, I would mean Miss Alexemia and me. Surely you understand what I mean. Perhaps I feel this way because I have loved at one time, and I still remember exactly how I felt then.

Atê's instructor, teacher, whatever you wish to call her, (Sometimes I feel it appropriate to refer to her as some type of demonic spawn.) had chosen to eavesdrop on her conversation. I was under the impression this was entirely meant for Miss Alexemia, but it seemed for just a brief moment that Shivaji was thanking me. I do not know if she was grateful for the influence I had over Atê, not that it's so much that way. And before she left, she chose to make a compromise between the two of them. The two decided they would no longer be quite so hard on each other. Though with what followed next, I thought perhaps Shivaji would never let Atê hear the end of it.

"_All right. I get it. Can I go have sex now?"_

Even I nearly choked when I heard the words. So much for being subtle, Miss Alexemia. If you brag about it to all of Silvermoon, you may be giving a bad impression to others. And then I remember that there are very few whom you care what they think of you.

What am I going to do with you?

There is still one more I must speak of to you, but this will come later. For now, I will leave you her name.

**Fheral.**

Ah, yes. Like the cat.


	13. Entry 12

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #12<strong>

_[Written on thin parchment. The leading man's handwriting has returned to the norm, a fine script that can be carefully looked over and tossed aside with no second thoughts. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]_

Ah. Free time.

Today is so free, in fact, that the plans after I have managed to send out at least one missive, are for me to relax in the sun. It seems it would be appropriate to mull over the recent events.

I have stopped in Hillsbrad for the time being. It seems that even my work is never complete. Client after client after client, and still nothing ever sees a resolution. I have had a very difficult journey over these latest times. The ground is unwelcoming to my feet, no matter how lightly I may strafe. I am discovering that even I have traits I must hone upon to further perfect myself. And I am finding that I miss the company of a couple lucky individuals. I imagine this means I will need to take a break from my work and eventually return to Silvermoon, so I might see one, or the other, or both again. Which do I prefer to see, however?

In the name of the fellow gods it is far too early to contemplate this. Instead, allow me to discuss what I was going to initially.

Previously, I mentioned a name to you.

Fheral, a charming lass who struts in leather and carries her head high, with an implied sense of superiority. She seems to believe she is wise beyond her years, and I cannot possibly imagine what has made her believe this. Of course, it could simply be the way she carries herself. When I read her eyes, however, there is a ferocity, as though she were a caged creature, yearning, searching for her freedom.

There is a saying this world seems to have. If you have the intent to play with fire, than you had better be anticipating the burn that will come along with it. In a literal sense, my hands are far too perfect for me to subject to flames. In that respect, I know that where this dark-haired female leads, I will have no hand in. I look at her and think to myself, 'treacherous, manipulative, and conniving'.

At any rate, we met in the tavern by the entrance to the city. She was in search of something to drink that was lacking in liquor, and after what may have seemed like eons to her, she was rewarded with a glass of nectar, I believe it was. Her frame turned stiffly and in a tone that made me think of a haughty child, she let loose a string of commentary that would have been far better left unsaid. Still, the immaturity of this creature invoked my laughter. It was not one of those sincere laughs as though I were enjoying myself. It was the type of chortle that ensues when one is clearly more pathetic than the other.

I do not mean in physical skills, because I am more than certain this woman could hold her own in the heat of battle. Her etiquette, however, was in poor taste and reminded me of why I so rarely socialize with anyone. She would be an exception, however, and only because I was in severe need of entertainment until my next appointment.

I wish for the life of me I could remember our conversation vividly, but if I did, it would mean I found it important, and logic states that anything coming from Fheral's lips cannot possibly be described as holding import. Instead, I will briefly summarize our meeting.

She has clearly never met a man who was eloquent. She listened to me speak and clarify myself and simply stared, dumbfounded. What sort of woman gawks with her mouth open and loses footing with her words? Why, yes, Atê has done this, but not once have I ever commented on it, for she knows not to do it for an extended period of time. Instead, I responded accordingly to the accusation that I could possibly be attempting to pick up on her.

Then I read beneath the surface.

Fheral is the epitome of vanity, just as nearly every other woman is. Speaking with this woman, and even simply looking upon her has caused me to remember exactly why I dislike the feminine gender to the extent at which I do. Krysinna falls into this category as well, and yet I tolerate her. She is modest. Overly stupid at times, and yet in possession of a darling trait. And Atê… Well…

She simply reminds me of something.

I left the tavern that day in hopes that I would never need to see her again. And if I absolutely had to, then it would be with the sincerest wish that I could handle the chance encounter with a little more grace.

Alas, time was not on my side.

I had heard word that there was to be a rather important gathering in Brill, a city in Tirisfal Glades, and just one of the many homes to the Forsaken. Upon my arrival, I scouted the surroundings from the shrubs and made my appearance when my leading authority entered the scene.

Stage right.

Fairborne was on a rather gallant steed. If I had not been aware of it before, than I knew at that precise moment, that he genuinely was a prince. A talk with Atê had led me to believe that it was possible for him to be a champion of a young lady. Of course, rumors are rumors and I tend to disbelieve all things until I have either seen them with my own eyes, or received official documentation upon them, so I might personally investigate. Phibrizo Damascus Fairborne, such a perfect definition of man, of the type of man that the average woman wishes for.

I stare at you and can only simply wonder how little time it will take before I am capable of bettering you in all aspects. You wish to be a prince. I will humbly remain a pirate of the lands. I must question your motives, however. What is leading you? What are your intentions? And what is it that you see in me that may possibly be so intriguing?

An eternal enigma.

My attention jerked from him at that obnoxious voice, the one I had wanted to avoid so much.

"_Hey, boss! …Eh… Person. Whatever. I don't know what to call you."_

It was Fheral. And she called him 'boss'. It didn't take further observance from me for me to know that she was an ally. Not only did I have to speak with her again; I would have to be on good behavior. I make it sound like such a chore, when I have never once released a rude phrase from my lips. I am merely irritated at the idea that this may occur twice and even thrice a week.

Strafing the ground, I joined Fairborne's side as he conversed with the one that could very well be the center of my hatred. I nodded to her once, simply in acknowledgement. Nothing else needed to be said, nor will it ever with her.

Now, I very well may have been fluttering off into my own paradise again, for I suddenly realized there was a blonde-haired elf who had joined us. She called herself Sheyarah and she had a smile that made me think of Krysinna, but eyes that stated she was entirely artificial. Her polite demeanor was something to be considered fake. So what was she really like? I did not have the opportunity to examine her closer as we were escorted by the means of arcane to the very source of where the peace efforts were applied.

Shattrath City.

I have heard tales of this place and have read many books on the landscape of Draenor. I have heard the theories; I have heard the controversies, and yet, unable to scout the lands for myself, I am unable to establish a definite opinion at this time, though it should be coming in the future. I did as I was told by Fairborne and inspected my surroundings closely. I wonder if he really is in ties for this pacifism movement.

Of course, this thought dissipated the moment I found the reason we were in Shattrath. There was a Forsaken, who seemed as though he was busying himself at a table with a mass of disorganized items. I slipped into the shadows and as we formed a rather delightful group stance, I simply watched the motions and the chemistry between those present.

Melenor was his name. I could not help except to stare at the spine that broke from his form so naturally. How truly grotesque the Forsaken are, and yet wonderfully amusing at the same time. Anyone with the remote ability to investigate another with eyes or observance should be able to tell that there is something not quite right about the man… or what was left of one… that I met. I have not quite figured it out myself, and yet there is a calling within me that says there is a story here, one perhaps even more captivating than my own. (Though the thought of that is unlikely.)

Aerybeth was there, and the Executor joined as well. In some odd way, the Grey Wolves serve as a dysfunctional family. I cannot help but wonder what my position is. I feel as though they are like my pets and I am simply looking in on them from the outside. A god that has created mankind.

Am I simply 'the' God?

Much to my chagrin, I felt myself fighting that nagging thought. Someone was waiting for me, and as punctual as I am, I do so dislike being tardy for anything. What happened afterwards, however, may have wounded my pride, far more than being late.

I had stated my farewells to my authority, and as I stepped back, I lost my footing from the platform upon which I stood. While it may have looked intentional, it was really nothing more than an idle trip, which resulted in me cringing when I landed on the story beneath me. Fortunately, it was not something so far down that I met my inevitable doom, however, there is a terrible aching in the soles of my feet.

And I still have yet to respond to 'Nich Nich's letter.

Whatever shall I say?


	14. Entry 13

**I Wound for Love****  
><strong>**Entry #13**

The heart often leads us to doing ridiculous things. We open ourselves up to deliberate pain and suffering. In an odd sort of light, you could imply that we enjoy mourning, no matter what our protests might say.

After all, actions are likely to hold more truth than fruity speech.

Inamorata.

That was the term I had chosen to call Atê. It is an old-fashioned term for 'love,' one that is rarely used nowadays. It is a word I have not used for a very long time, and would only choose for one that I think is absolutely appropriate. You can imagine my distress when I was presented by the idea that Atê would need to be called this. She was good at confronting me and that day in Silvermoon City's bazaar, she demanded to know how I felt about her. Not in logical terms, but rather in a manner of which I chose not to over think, which is the norm.

She seemed pleased.

And then there was my absence.

I had been preoccupied, far too busy to see either Atê or Krysinna. This has resulted in my downfall, however, which was something I never anticipated. I had jumped into this, fully aware that Atê had the ability to hurt me. I didn't expect her to, however, and I had worked quite hard to lower my guard around the refreshingly obnoxious young lady.

While I was away, Atê and the priestess had met, most likely at the tavern that occurs weekly. She did not give particular examples, however, she very openly stated that Krysinna is 'smitten' with me. Not wishing to get in the way, she excused herself, but not before confessing that she had kissed another.

Women. They are treacherous creatures.

Yes. I may have no right to say this, or so you may think. You seem to have no concept of what is truly happening, however.

I explained to Atê that Miss Krysinna is more like a charge, more like my ward. I am, indeed, her guardian and to that even greater extent, her champion. Yet my feelings for her remain platonic. One cannot afford to become so enthralled with a creature made for manipulation. I had decided long before that I would allow myself to become wrapped around her index finger. Now as I look at it, it seems Atê was able to achieve that just fine.

And my hatred begins to boil.

Krysinna, your parents died by my hand, but I decided then that I would not let the same fate befall you. At least, not yet, and when it did, it would be to me, and me alone. I would be the only one to see you kneel before I took from you your life. Until that time came, you would be my daughter, in an odd manner of speaking. I would protect you as though you were a member of my family. That was exactly how I wanted things to be.

Yet it seems you have fallen in love, and even worse, I had neglected to either see this, or to commit it to memory. Clearly that is what time does as it passes and as we progress as people.

So here I stand, wondering what I shall do now. My work stays dedicated to Fairborne, as that is the only person who genuinely needs me in the group of exhaustive mercenaries. I could say I was heart broken, but then that would imply that I have a heart.

Perhaps for you, dear reader, I should step from the shadows a bit and show you a picture.

Her hair was dark. It fell to the small of her back in endearing ringlets at the ends. Her facial structure was well-sculpted, suited for her, if I might be so bold. Her demeanor was constantly darker than the norm, and yet it was the thing that had attracted me to her in the first place. When she smiled, she looked completely different from how I had pictured.

When we first met, I would imagine the upturn of her lips and the sharp twitching of her ears. By the fellow gods she was a beauteous creature.

And dangerous.

She completed me.

It would seem there still fails in existence that a woman as spectacular and perfect as her would be a suitable replacement. My search may have come to an end in that respect. It may simply be her way of saying she is either envious in the afterlife, or she severely dislikes everything.

No matter what the situation, I extend my hand only to the sky above me.

My dearest love, my darling inamorata, not a day passes when I think naught of you. Not an ache ensues when I recollect your sweet melody. How you tormented me so, and how I have never loved anyone in the way I did you.

Lend me your forgiveness. I must continue this path and prove to you exactly how worthy I am.

My precious Ei`riya, eternal goddess of the soil beneath my feet.


	15. Entry 14

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #14<strong>

Life anew.

There are always certain things in life that you find that you cannot fathom. I am not excluded from this position, whether I am a lone celestial being, or grouped with others.

I awoke today with a book upon my chest. This is not uncommon for me. Whether I am writing or reading, I simply tend to fall into the Land of Nod in the midst of doing something I supposedly enjoy. It aroused me from my slumber, however, with the scent of something very sweet, something that I cannot, for the life of me, remember what it is. Yet, I can only deem that it is so very familiar. It plunged me into nostalgia, a place that I generally attempt to avoid.

Ei`riya.

That is what this fragrance reminded me of. As I have looked at other things recently, however, they all seem to point in her direction. Something happened that I cannot recall and now the memory of her seems to plague my mind.

I had been poisoned. Imagine that; a pirate of the lands so careless that he'd fallen to a mere poisoning attempt from his opposition. I was given a vial to cure of me of this illness and following that, my mind is completely empty. It is as though I'd fallen into a deep sleep and one that perhaps I would never wake from. And yet, I find myself here now, here today, as though I was never absent in the first place.

Whoever you may be, the one who offered this to me, I do not know. I feel as though I should, and yet I don't. One day, this may change, however…

My faith in protecting Miss Krysinna has increased by one hundred fold. To ensure her safety and understand that should the Grey Wolves ever discover of her, she would be used against me. How simple it is to use a 'daughter' to get to the 'father'. It concerns me a great deal, however, and I have always attempted to prevent it. One day it may happen, however, and I must be ready to deal with such circumstances.

Enough on that.

As of late, I have been traveling through Kalimdor, close to the lands of the Kal'dorei. It is a remotely aesthetically pleasing location, yet I find myself so often bored to tears while I am there. I realize I must be missing something somewhere. Surely there is an outpost I have yet to find myself in. And if that is the case, with all haste, I must make for it and acquire the appropriate assignments for my clients.

I returned to Silvermoon City last night to find an impeccable platinum-haired elf. Normally this would have done naught for me, however, it is one that I work with. A Miss Sheyarah, if I may say so.

Dressed quite provocatively, as though she was to capture the attention of any mere passerby. Unfortunately for me, that did seem to occur. I am, alas, unable to worm away from such trivial things and therefore at times can be considered no different than other man, aside from the idea that I am a god.

We exchanged words, Miss Sheyarah and I. And so quickly, I forgot my guard (or simply neglected the use of it), allowing myself to not only drop honorifics, but to refer to her as a 'friend', which should you know me, I do not and generally cannot consider anyone a friend. She reached into me, and it was the first time I willingly allowed someone to see a bit more insight to the person that I am. While I may not have spoken much, and in spite of failing to evade her inquiries, she was able to obtain the information she wanted, simply by my body language and various answers to the questions she extended to me.

She is a very intelligent woman, fit to be the lover of Fairborne. An intelligent man with a like counterpart behind him. I foresee wonderful things for the Grey Wolves.

I scarcely recall the conversation I had with her, though there is but one line that sticks out, so distinguishable from all the others.

"_My blades are the only things I can depend on."_

Ah yes. For blades are not as fickle as a woman or a man's heart. I drench them in poison on a daily basis.

It seems, however, that I will need to do the same with my heart.


	16. Entry 15

**I Wound for Love  
>Entry #15<strong>

I cannot do this. I _will_ not do this.

Fairborne's eyes burned into me as though I were simply a common felon. Of course, I was standing next to the woman that was very much his daughter, which had come to be new knowledge to me. My journeys through Kalimdor and southeast of Tirisfal have obviously taken too much of my time and ability. I leave for only days and come back to find that nearly everything in the world has changed.

Miss Sheyarah is no longer Miss Sheyarah. I believe she listed her name as… "Cheyrnn" or something very similar. As I could hardly comprehend her, it seems only natural I would not be capable of spelling it either. She seemed hardly fit for conversation last night, annoyed over the recruiting of a young man with startlingly blond hair by the name of Sevri. Following our newcomer's 'graceful' exit (which was him thinking he was so sly by placing his sights upon Miss Alexemia), I did turn my attention to the young woman I believed to be Fairborne's ward.

_"Miss Sheyarah did not introduce herself as such. Why is this?"_ I had demanded to know with that authoritative tone adorning my voice.

It is a tone I feel that I have used with her often. It is so strange. I stand and look at her and experience a variety of emotions that I have attempted to place aside since the passing of Ei`riya. There is something very familiar about all of this, however, and upon our last meeting in Ashenvale, a land filled with a tribe of Kal'dorei (such repulsive creatures, really), she did claim that we had a bit of a history.

Why for the life of me, though, can I not recall what any of this 'history' may be…? I do feel as though I am simply lingering in the dark and awaiting some sort of obscure obliteration of sorts.

Miss Alexemia claimed that Miss Sheyarah had fallen rather harshly from… 'grace,' I believe she referred to it as, following the actions of lying with her cousin, or with Miss Alexemia's. The thought of cousin had registered to me and did cause an inner tremor. I cannot say I would be so inclined as to lie with anyone of my family, or someone else's, really. At least, not to the degree of cousin. It would be… as though Ei`riya had held a sister and I had chosen to explore that threshold with her as well. It is in poor taste.

I must have sounded cruel to my companion when I told her that Miss Sheyarah, in her current condition, has the potential to become a weakness in the lines of the Grey Wolves. I do truly believe this, however. In her emotive state, I feel she is very much a vulnerability and one that should be crushed. I am well aware that she was once Fairborne's lover, as she did tell me this upon my first return to Silvermoon City and the glorious woods that house it.

Instead, Miss Alexemia seems to have… Oh, how to say… She appears to have an odd sort of faith in the solemn vixen. It is difficult for me to tell. Part of her seems concerned over her 'friend', and the other part seems terribly annoyed at the circumstance. I believe she did claim that she had very little desire to 'babysit' Miss Sheyarah. I suppose it is only to be expected.

Ah… Where to go from here.

I am befuddled. I find myself often so, especially around Miss Alexemia. The things that she does, and the things that she says. She has a tendency to look at me with this fondness, and in a strange sort of way, reminds me of Miss Krysinna, who I have not seen in quite some time. I have continuously meant to see the young lady I have deemed my daughter in life and death, but it seems my time has not allowed me this luxury. As I am sitting here now, I am convincing myself that soon I will need to attend to this. I would like to see her again and check on her progress. I am sure she is doing well, however; she is a strong woman, or at the very least, a strong young lady.

I would like to see her before Miss Alexemia and I leave for our journey.

She has asked that I accompany her to her homeland, which appears to be near a place called Elwynn Forest. I have not personally visited this area, however, it seems that it will take a good amount of swimming to get to. I wonder over her strength, however. Like me, she does not wield arcane, but she is not simply Sin'dorei either, and therefore I have difficulties understanding if her heritage and ethnicity will affect her physical abilities. I had claimed I wished to carry her the distance and she claimed she would offer far too much weight for me to handle.

Do I come off as so weak? I cannot ever picture Ei`riya saying such a thing about me. But then… Lady Ei`riya and I had a very different sort of relationship, I suppose.

Once more, it seems I fall victim to my thoughts. I cannot honor the memory of my fallen wife enough. This lack of my memories, however, I feel as though a part of me is missing. I feel too compassionate, too merciful, and I feel as though I am living some type of lie.

What in the name of my great self is my inner self hiding? And how do I obtain my true memories?

_Must… I rely on arcane finally to reach this end?_


End file.
